


penumbra

by motherofrevels



Series: valentine Bambi eyes (neutral) [2]
Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofrevels/pseuds/motherofrevels
Summary: Iandore and Barley enjoy their final sabbatical days together beneath the springtime sun; decisions about the next timid steps in their uneasy relationship begging to be made all the while.—Part 1/4 of the neutral outcome timeline for 'valentine Bambi eyes'.
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot & Ian Lightfoot, Barley Lightfoot/Ian Lightfoot
Series: valentine Bambi eyes (neutral) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732324
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	penumbra

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction containing potentially triggering content, involving an underage minor engaging in incest with their elder sibling. If this bothers you, please feel free to check out some of the more amazing works of fiction by other, far more talented writers here on Archive of Our Own. Thank-you!

After what seemed like weeks of endless rainfall, the sudden sheer intensity of the day’s greater light was enough to drive many of New Mushroomton’s residents from their homes in search of outdoor entertainment. Iandore Lightfoot—and his elder brother, Barley—were no exceptions.

The evergreen leaves of the oak tree above them wafted here and there lazily within the gentle embrace of the springtime breeze. And for at least this singular moment in time, everything seemed to fit into its rightful place.

Barley hummed softly to himself, his heavy head nestled into the warm bones of his younger sibling’s delicate lap. Toughened hands busied with his paper and pen as he dreamed up his latest Quests of Yore campaign; while Iandore’s chocolate gaze glided to-and-fro along the musty pages of allegedly great works from one esteemed philosopher or another.

Midas-kissed eyes flickered upward then, drinking in the look of unmatched focus on the slender elf’s freckled face. The elder man couldn’t help but smile, returning to his writing without missing a beat.

How long had it been since they’d felt this easy around one another? Since all their troubles had seemed so very far away?

  
• • •

  
Golden would always eventually give way to violet. It was a war as old as time; the sea always swallowing up the last prideful remainders of merciless sunset. And if only for the duration of night, the harsh judgement of the great star would be spared until dawn's first timid glow gave way to the brash invasion of another day—

" _Ian_ ," a soft baritone called, tearful chocolate eyes flickering toward the source with a wildness the self-proclaimed Quest Master had never quite seen before. "Mom's been calling you for _hours_ . . . We were all worried _sick_ , man. What's going on?"

But Iandore merely bared his teeth in response, standing to bolt at surprising speed toward the towering elf behind him, causing his elder brother to exclaim in shock. Tiny fists peppered the bulk of Barley's hulking form at first, before moving to his face; landing a blow on the bulky man's nose that caused his eyes to water. But he wouldn't have time to react, as another blow connected with the firm tissue of his spade-shaped ear.

" _Ian!_ What the _fuck_ , dude!?" Barley yelped, curling his head into his arms to shield against the flurry of blows that continued to sloppily fling against him. "Ian! Stop it!" he pleaded, thrusting the mass of his flinched form against the willowy little mage, knocking him into the soil below (albeit briefly).

Standing to his full height once again, Barley's tearful amber gaze observed the little bundle of trembling rage make short work of taking a second stand to hurl himself against him once again; but this time, Barley caught his brother’s delicate wrists within a vice grip.

" _Let me fucking **go**!_" Ian demanded, eyes steeped in inhumanity as he lunged to bite at the toughened knuckles that held him firmly in place.

Barley yanked his fists up then, taking his younger brother's arms with him as he went. " _Ian!_ Don't fucking _bite_ me! What the hell is _going on_ , bro?!" he roared, shaking the frail little spell-caster as his own blood filled his bristled mouth. "What is _going on_ with you—?"

" _You're_ what's going on with me, you _fuck up!_ " Ian spat, a bit of spittle dribbling down his chin at the ferocity of his insult. "Always in my fucking business!— _Following me around!_ You're not my fucking _Dad_ , Barley! You're not even my fucking _friend!_ " Ian shrieked, tears and mucous mixing with the spittle at his chin as he shook violently at his restraint in Barley's fists.

The words cut deep; dense brows furrowing as Midas-toned eyes darkened. " _Excuse me?—_ "

"You fucking _heard me_ , man! You're a _fuck up!_ — **No!** — _I fucked up!_ It should have been _me!_ " Ian screamed into a sob, yanking at his wrists with such ferocity that Barley feared he may dislocate them. "I fucking **hate** you! I just wanted him to hold me **once**! _Just **one** time!_ Now, I'll never get to . . . I wasted my _one fucking chance_ to see Dad, on a fucking _loser_ like **you** . . ." Ian's screams were nearly unintelligible now through a veil of heaves and sobs, but Barley easily made out every word. And every word sliced a little more deeply than the last.

The elder Lightfoot's mind emptied, a sundown-colored stare lowered to catch the wild, widened chocolate of his sibling's craze. "Ian, please calm down," Barley tried, eyes darkening as he watched the little mage continue to struggle in vain against him. " _Please_ —"

" _Fuck off, Barley!_ Let fucking **go** of me! Stop _touching_ me, you pathetic **fuck** —"

" _Iandore_ ," came the older man's bellow, glassy gaze hardening as he gave his junior a few firm shakes timed to the syllables in his name. 

Tearful doe eyes—blinded by rage—seemed to clear for a moment; stunned as the full realization hit them of what they'd done to their elder. The bigger man's mouth, jaw and neck were drenched in crimson. Eyes empty and harsh all at once as they caught and held the thin magician's slowly reigniting ones.

"L-Let me go, Barley!" Ian ordered, tone wavering slightly at the unreadable emotions swirling in the elder Lightfoot's stare. " _Let me fucking—_ "

" _Watch your fucking **mouth**_ , Ian. That's _enough_ —"

" **Fuck off** , dude—"

" _Alright_ ," Barley seethed, heavy-handedly palming both of Iandore's tiny wrists before beginning the trek back towards Guinevere the Second; pausing to rip the young mage's bookbag from the ground with his free hand, shouldering it as he pulled him along.

" _B-Barley!_ Let me _go!_ L-let me _fucking **go** ,_ Barley!" Ian called, half-stumbling and half being dragged along by the muscle-bound elf who strode silently toward the bed of his recently painted van. "You're _hurting_ me!"

Throwing the door open, Barley first tossed the svelte wizard into the solid bed of his hand-crafted vehicle; hurling his bag inside next before climbing aboard, closing (and locking) them both inside. 

" _Fuck you, **Barley**!_ You could have _broken my arms_ , you fucking _idiot!_ "

In an instant, the bigger man was climbing atop Ian, pinning him down with a well placed hand. "I'm not an _idiot_. I'm not _stupid_. I'm not a _fuck-up_ ," Barley stated plainly, eyes glassy as he felt another onslaught of slaps and writhing begin beneath him. "Please, stop talking to me like that—"

" _Get **off** of me_, you fucking _loser!_ ” Ian sobbed, finding his wrists once again grasped firmly within his elder brother's free hand, pinned above his head in a way that made it impossible for him to fight back.

"Does loving you make me a _loser?_ Huh?" Barley's voice was soft, barely audible beneath the torrent of grunts and sobs pouring out of the little fey beneath him. "Do you have any idea how much it _hurts_ me, when you talk to me like this?"

"Y- _You're_ hurting _me_ right now! Let me _fucking go_ —"

" _Why?_ So you can keep _hitting_ me?" the elder Lightfoot's voice was heavy as it filled the steel and fiberglass of his noble steed. "I don't wanna fight you, Ian. I'm not here to fight with you. I'm here to _love_ you," Barley watched his brother's face—distorted by anger and frustration—harden a bit as he continued to struggle in vain against him. "But you don't really _wanna_ be loved, _do you?_ "

Iandore's body was tiring out; chest heaving and energy reserves all but depleted. " _I-I just want you to get off of me—_ "

"I'm sorry I _fucked your life up_ , Ian. I'm _sorry_ I accepted your offer to say goodbye to Dad. But I gave up _half of my childhood_ to be a **father** to you. And you _never cared_. You took it all for granted, while I was trying my best to be _good to you,_ " Barley's voice felt empty as he went.

“And _now_ , you’re gonna be good to _me_.”

  
• • •

  
Barley’s wily brows furrowed then, breath catching momentarily as he shook the memory from his greasy head. Once again, he looked to his little brother; but this time, his look was returned in kind. Warm mahogany caught autumn maple in a dance of curiosity, and above a capped head, a heavy book was closed.

“Anything exciting happening?” Ian asked, youthful voice leaving blue velvet kisses against the proud flourishes of his brother’s ears. 

Considering this for a moment, Barley’s brows knitted; eyes falling to his notebook in wonder as he offered a mindful hum. “Nothing you’d really care about,” he shrugged, “standard dungeon quest in a Dwarven cave.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed a bit then, upper teeth gnawing it his lower lip. “And, why are you _so sure_ I wouldn’t care?” he chided, setting his book aside and into the plush grass beneath them as he felt his elder’s head shift in his lap. Their eyes met once again. “I _like_ hearing about your campaigns, Barley. I’m not a great _player_ , but I’m _always_ interested in a good story. And you’re a _great_ storyteller.”

Barley’s eyes flickered to life then, ears perking as he rolled himself up and into a properly seated position, turning to face Iandore in a flurry of movements that drew an earnest smile from the little mage. Nothing was quite as adorable to witness, as the unbridled amount of gusto in which Barley would approach one of his campaign readings. Dramatic gestures, hearty bellows, and invigorating sound effects painted every audible inch of Barley’s fables in shades of neon wonder.

And by the end of the Quest Master’s gallant showcase, the marigold rays of the great star had begun to set in the distance; the svelte wizard’s fawn-like eyes softening at memories of a late Summer not-so-long-since passed. Barley’s eyes caught this change in his baby brother’s expression, unable to keep himself from tossing an uneasy look over his shoulder at the beginnings of sunset.

Slowly—brows furrowed and eyes downcast—he turned to face Ian; trying his best to conjure up his bravest face for the sake of his closest ally, but returned with only a gentle smile. 

“Hey—”

“The campaign was _awesome_ , Barley,” Ian smiled into a chuckle. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he’d made the effort to try for his elder sibling. “Are you planning on playing this one with Shrub? I think he’s gonna _love_ it,” he complimented, eyes steadied on the setting sun, bypassing his brother altogether.

Barley felt, in essence, trapped. If he pressed his sibling to speak on the subject of his feelings, he could be adding salt to a rather fresh wound. But if he ignored what he was seeing, it would be negligence on his part that he wasn’t willing to commit. And so, he rested a calloused hand against the perpendicular slope of the spell-caster’s frail shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as he nodded in thanks.

“ _Hey_ —”

“I’m _serious_ , Barley,” Ian interrupted again; axinite gaze laser-focused on Barley’s citrine, softening to the brink of despair. “That part with the Dracolich? _Dude_ , the guys are gonna _freak!_ ” He grinned this time, but it was painful; almost a grimace, if not for the false warmth of his voice.

And with this, Ian adjusted his posture; rising to his knees in an attempt to take a stand. But Barley was faster—a large hand taking him by the wrist and pulling him into the solid cradle of his strong arms. Ian couldn’t help but squeak in surprise, expression dazed and flushed as he found himself sweltering beneath the solar flare of Barley’s gaze. 

“ _Hey!_ ” the brawny elf pressed; brows drawn in concern as he pulled the little mage into himself as closely as he could . . . And for a moment, they merely studied each other. “ _I’m talking to you._ ” 

Chocolate eyes welled with tears, full lips trembled as they parted to protest, and tender hands steadied themselves against the firm warmth of Barley’s broad chest. “C-Can we just . . . _not?_ ” Ian tried, forcing himself to smile softly despite the precipitation building in his eyes. “A-Are you hungry?” he inquired next, a single tear cascading down a sunkissed cheek. “We could grab dinner somewhere! _Manticore’s Tavern?_ Y-You could tell me more about the _campaign!_ O-Or I could tell you about my _homework_. Or we could—”

“Can I kiss you?” Barley interrupted, fighting back a wince as a second tear chased the first along the junior elf’s high cheekbone. “ _Please?_ ”

Iandore looked to be taken aback, brows pinched into a point as he visibly stiffened. “B-Barely—”

“ _Please_ , Ian?” Barley practically whispered, eyes earnest as he leaned in to rest his forehead against the slighter boy’s. Iandore’s sweet breath filled his nostrils, the scent every bit as inviting as it was intoxicating . . . 

But the soft warmth of the younger elf’s skin was pulled away a moment later.

“Don’t,” Ian whispered, wistful eyes falling from the luminous penumbra of Barley’s stare, settling instead on his own limber hands upon his brother’s chest. “W-We _shouldn’t_ ,” he reasoned, nodding to himself for reassurance.

Barley then diverted his own gaze; studying the supple emerald blades blanketing the earth beneath them in a deafening silence. 

They’d been over this before. 

Following the events of an especially heated fallout between them over the subject of their father’s final precious moments within the living realm, and leading up to the ephemerality of Barley’s sabbatical year; the final delicate embers of their freshly budded romance had all but burned through. 

Iandore had been the one to make the decision to discontinue their regularly developing trysts in favor of their original (more platonic) camaraderie. The frail mage knew very well that whatever he and Barley began now, would come to a bitter end as the elder began his foray into campus life. And frankly, _both_ brothers knew the minor comfort they’d managed to find in each other’s arms, was doomed to die. 

There wasn’t a world in which their relationship as lovers could ever truly flourish. Their potential for passion would always be built upon the brittle foundations of secrecy and falsehoods. There would always be shame, there would always be uncertainty, and there would always be disappointment.

And Ian had explained; that they’d both experienced enough disappointment in their young lives, to willingly surrender themselves to yet another.

Whatever this was, it had to end.

And the sooner the better.

Barley’s heart sank into his stomach as he nodded in agreement, allowing his younger sibling to slip from his arms and into a trembling stand. A soft hand was extended in return, to help the burly man to his feet. Somber eyes met for an instant, each brother’s gaze searching the other’s for a shred of uncertainty . . . 

And Barley accepted.

Accepted the roaring tides of change, and accepted the death of a romance in its infancy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone manages to enjoy this! I'm also always open to receiving constructive criticism. Thank-you so much for stopping by!


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